


Cruel Irony

by Lalaen



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, American Sign Language, Angst, Car Accidents, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Muteness, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 07:29:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4254663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalaen/pseuds/Lalaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bertholdt has always struggled to speak to anyone other than Reiner, but his partner is more than social enough to make up for it. When a car accident renders Reiner mute, Bertholdt suddenly has to learn to speak for two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cruel Irony

For the third time in as many minutes, Bertholdt caught himself picking at the stitches on his right arm. It was subconscious - he had so many, and he could feel that weird plastic thread shifting through his sore skin when he touched them. As much as he was supposed to leave them alone, it was quickly becoming a nervous habit. He shifted in his bus seat, awkwardly trying to find another way to fidget. He could feel people looking at him, no doubt because of the dozens of stitches in his arm and the huge purple bruise on his brow and temple. He forced himself to think about how Reiner would tell him to ignore them, would probably shift his weight so Bertholdt would be partially behind him. 

Reiner wasn't here right now. His chest tightened at just the thought of his cheerful partner sitting in the hard seat next to him. It was wishful thinking; Bertholdt had been alone since he woke up alone in the hospital almost a week ago. His only glimpse of Reiner had been through a window into the ICU. Just thinking of it now made his hands tremble. All the nurses would tell him at the time was that the other man was stable, and Bertholdt was not deluded enough to think that meant he was going to be ok. Sleep had been nearly impossible, and by now the bags under his eyes were almost as dark as his bruise. At night it was too hard to stop thinking, and he found the queen bed they'd shared since they left the orphanage much too big. Annie had offered in her belligerent way to come and stay with him, but he couldn't make himself say yes. She was a dear friend, but the thought of her seeing him in the state he was in now filled him with dread. 

This morning, Bertholdt had finally got the call that Reiner was being moved to a recovery floor. It should have been an incredible relief; of course if he was going to recovery that meant he would be alright. Regardless, Bertholdt still couldn't shake that image of the ICU, the tracheal tube, the IVs, of someone who looked nothing like his partner. Reiner had always been overflowing with life and charisma, Bertholdt just his tall and quiet shadow. Almost transparently pale and deathly still, it had been hard to recognize him at all. 

It was impossible to tell if his unsettled stomach was from the slight motion sickness inherit in buses, or his nerves. Through the haze he'd been living in for nearly a week, Bertholdt heard the hospital stop announced. When he stood, he knew that eyes were following him, but he tried to pay no mind. That's what Reiner would have told him to do. He was already nervous about navigating the hospital alone, but there was no question in his mind that he'd do it. He'd have to do it to see Reiner. 

While waiting at the stoplight, he caught himself picking at his stitches again. 

Once he got inside, a nurse asked him if he was ok before he could reach the visitors' desk. He tried to stammer out a yes, he honestly did; but just ended up jerkily nodding his head. It made his neck twinge in pain. 

"I'm here to visit someone," he said, hand tight on the edge of the desk. He knew his voice was too soft even before the nurse leaned towards the glass half-barrier to hear him better. 

"What was that, dear?"

"I'm here to visit someone," Bertholdt replied, barely any louder. "My. My partner." It'd taken him years to call Reiner that in conversation, and he still struggled with it. The term seemed like too much and yet also entirely inadequate. 

"And what's her name?" The nurse asked with a practiced kind and pedantic tone. 

Bertholdt's stomach felt like it was full of lead. He didn't have any problem with the fact that he was with another man, but he was extremely conscious of how it often drew more attention to them - especially when people had to be corrected. He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. "... His name is Reiner Braun." He felt a dizzy little swoop of anxiety. He didn't think he'd ever corrected someone before. Reiner always took over for him. 

The nurse looked taken aback, but recovered quickly. "Give me a second to look... Him up."

Bertholdt stood and waited, trying not to be overcome with mortification. He was going to see Reiner soon. It was what was getting him through this, what had gotten him through this entire week. As much as the idea kept him together, he was almost afraid to see that spectre again, the man who was supposed to be Reiner but wasn't. 

He was given the room number and told to go left to find the elevators and take them to the fourth floor. It was a little more complicated than just going left, but he managed to get there without looking too lost. With each moment that he spent in the elevator, his nerves overcame his need more and more. Reiner had always been the strong one, untouchable and infectiously optimistic. Bertholdt had even seen him at his worst, lower than anyone else ever had, and could still not help but see him that way. This was something new, and for not the first time Bertholdt wished he'd been the one severely injured. 

Again he was immediately stopped by hospital staff. This time, he didn't bother saying much more than Reiner's name. The nurse didn't question him, but pointed him to a waiting room and told him he would have to wait for one of the doctors. As he sat in the uncomfortable little chair, he struggled not to think of the waiting rooms he'd been exiled to in his childhood. It was impossible. Reiner was always getting hurt as a kid. Hospitals always brought Bertholdt back to when Reiner had broken his arm when they were eight and nine. He remembered sitting in a waiting room just like this one, crying uncontrollably. Now he did not cry, despite knowing this was a lot worse than a broken arm. He felt numb. 

It didn't take the doctor as long to come as he thought it might, though maybe he'd just lost track of time in his thoughts. His stomach tightened like a fist when the man walked over to him, putting out a hand to shake. "You're the boyfriend, aren't you? Nothing lasting from your concussion?"

Bertholdt's mouth felt very dry. "... Not really." He took the doctors hand and shook meekly, feeling like he was somehow doing it wrong. It was the truth - he'd only had a little dizziness, which he'd been told to expect. 

"Good to hear. Come on, and I'll update you on his condition."

Making himself stand, Bertholdt followed out of the waiting room and into the hall. It felt like his heart was pounding in his ears. He was almost surprised that no one else could hear it. 

When they reached what must be the right door, the doctor turned and hovered his hand over Bertholdt's forearm. Though it was an innocent gesture probably meant to indicate to him that this was it, he reflexively stepped back. He did not like being touched by anyone other than Reiner as a rule. His hands were tense claws. 

"His condition is stable, and he's been conscious and aware several times now. As I'm sure you're aware, the damage to his throat was the biggest concern. He's recovered well from the surgery, and the tube is removed now. However..." The doctor paused, and looked at him as if to gauge his reaction. "It looks as though he won't regain use of his voice. The surgery on his leg went very well. The breaks will heal with the pin in place, and it doesn't look like it'll need more work done."

Bertholdt nodded, unable to absorb what he'd just heard. 

"Don't be alarmed by the oxygen mask, it's just to make breathing a little easier."

He nodded again, staring at the door. The slot on the side said BRAUN, and something about that really scared Bertholdt. When the doctor stepped aside to allow him in, he went almost too quickly. 

Reiner did not look as lifeless as he had last time. He looked a bit thinner in the face, but there was a little color to his cheeks now that hadn't been there before. The mask over his nose and mouth was much less upsetting than the tube they'd had shoved down his throat last time. Bertholdt was so relieved to see Reiner looking more like himself that he hardly noticed the huge metal sling holding up the leg that had been shattered. That was no price to pay for the man's life. He hurried to the bedside, taking up the chair next to it with no hesitation. He tried to ignore the underlying sick smell of the room, and his hand twitched as he tried to resist laying it on Reiner's arm. 

"Just press the call button if you need anything," the doctor said, and Bertholdt heard the door click closed. He suddenly realized he had no reason not to touch Reiner, and slid a slender, long-fingered hand under the limp and heavy one that rested on the bed. His gaze remained fixed on his partner's face, though for a while he watched the rise and fall of that broad chest under the sheet. He would rather be anxious here than at home. Here he could reassure himself that Reiner was still breathing; could draw strength from the presence he was so accustomed to. Reiner was warm and breathing and alive. That knowledge pushed away the image that had him waking up in a cold sweat since the accident - looking over to see Reiner clutching his throat and coughing blood, desperate to breathe. His own head throbbing as he looked into those eyes where he'd only ever found confidence and seeing panic. 

Bertholdt felt the hand on top of his twitch, then slowly tighten to grip it. He looked up, his lips parted as if to say something, and found those same brown eyes open. 

"Reiner," it slipped from his lips before he knew what he was saying. "Reiner, are you..."

Thin lips pulled up into a familiar half-smile under the oxygen mask. Bertholdt knew it was for his own comfort, but he felt his lips pull reflexively into a smile of his own. Reiner's gaze seemed mostly aware, though no doubt he was on some kind of pain killer to keep him comfortable. There was a small gauze pad taped at the base of his throat between his collar bones, hiding the spot where they'd cut his throat open in the ambulance to help him breathe. No doubt it was stitched closed now. 

"How are you feeling," Bertholdt said in his soft, worried voice. Reiner's hand was warm and comforting on his own. 

The other man lifted an arm - mostly unblemished but for a few scrapes and bruises - and pointed to the notepad on the table next to them. Bertholdt immediately moved to pick it up for him before freezing in the midst of the action.

Won't regain use of his voice. 

Reiner could not speak. 

As numb as he'd been in the waiting room, he handed the notepad to his partner. Laboriously, Reiner scribbled something before setting the paper so he could see it. In his scratchy handwriting, complete with mixed cases,

'Better now that you're here, handsome'

Bertholdt felt tears start to run down his cheeks. 

...

Reiner's incurable attitude was perhaps the only thing that Bertholdt understood about the next two weeks. He was more upset about the fact that he was being told he shouldn't play sports any more than he was about his voice. They passed Bertholdt's phone back and forth, and he could talk much more easily that way than by writing out by hand. He said he was plenty charming enough to get by without speaking. 

'You always get me without us talking anyways. Won't be any problems.'

Bertholdt's stomach twisted in knots. Reiner couldn't really be this calm about something so huge. This must be for his benefit, and he felt terrible about it; he was supposed to be the one supporting Reiner right now. He felt a light slap to his elbow, and startled in his chair, looking up to see his partner wagging a finger at him. It was only then he realized that he'd been playing with his stitches again. 

"Sorry," Bertholdt mumbled. "They're bothering me."

The phone was shoved in front of him. 'Stop fidgeting babe. You're safe here.'

Bertholdt could definitely argue that he was never going to feel safe and relax in a hospital, but he didn't bother. "I'm worried about you." He was too close to the bed to stare at the floor, so he stared at the IV taped into Reiner's arm instead. He saw the hand tighten into a fist and looked up to see the rest of the wince that Reiner was obviously trying to hide. Instead of bothering to ask what hurt, he slammed the call button. 

Reiner opened his mouth, no doubt to argue, before obviously realizing sound wasn't going to come out. He closed it again, causing a pang in Bertholdt's chest, then flashed an 'ok' symbol with one of his hands. It wasn't the best idea, because lifting the arm made him wince again and clutch his side. 

"... I wish they could do more than medicate you for your ribs," Bertholdt said quietly, his voice sounding disapproving even to himself. 

"What can I do for you?" The nurse said as she walked in, closing the door behind her. Bertholdt did not immediately reply, honestly because he was so used to Reiner speaking up and handling the situation. "Sir?"

His cheeks burned at his mistake, and already flustered, he had to struggle to find the words he needed. "The broken ribs are bothering him. If... If he could have more painkillers..." He trailed off embarrassedly, staring at a spot just over the nurse's head and hoping as he usually did that would be good enough for eye contact. 

She glanced over the charts quickly. "Unfortunately you'll have to wait forty more minutes for another dose," she said, addressing Reiner directly. "I'll bring you a cold compress."

Bertholdt was still a little red when the nurse left, but Reiner gave him a thumbs up that was clearly meant to congratulate him for talking to someone without any help. He didn't feel like he really deserved it, but offered a weak smile in return nonetheless. He reached forwards and untwisted the elastic of the oxygen mask, trying to fix it; but Reiner's hand came up to stay his. The other hand was somewhat encumbered by IVs and a pulse monitor, but came up to Bertholdt's chin nonetheless and guided him down. Reiner pulled the mask out of the way to allow them to kiss, and as soon as their lips touched Bertholdt felt his shoulders drop, the familiarity of the action letting some of his tension ebb away. Reiner's lips were chapped, no doubt from wearing the mask, and Bertholdt could feel him straining to rise a little off of the bed to kiss more aggressively. He put a hand over Reiner's broad chest, wanting to keep him against the bed but afraid to cause pain, and let it hover there a moment before choosing a spot he knew was safe to push on. It was a desperate, but chaste kiss, one that enjoyed the moment instead of pressing forwards with tongues. 

Reiner started to tremble with surpressed coughs, and Bertholdt jerked back like he'd been burned. Of course his partner couldn't breathe very well... He'd been stupid to forget something so important. 

The mask was immediately pushed back up, and Reiner gave him a sad look as he struggled to regulate his breathing again. The way his brow knit together indicated that his ribs were paining him even more now; and Bertholdt bit back guilt. Reiner's hand was now hovering halfway between him and the bed, and Bertholdt took it to hold in his own just as he heard the door open again. 

"Here we are," the nurse handed Bertholdt a cold pack. "You can do this for him. Just a little even pressure, okay? By the time you need a new one it should be time for another dose regardless." 

Obeying instructions was one of Bertholdt's greatest strengths. Reiner jolted a little in what looked like shock from the cold, but after only a moment his head rested back on the pillow. He held his hand out for the phone. 

'That actually feels great. Thank you.'

"Just like sports injuries?" No one other than Reiner ever seemed to recognize his voice as teasing, but it was. In high school, before they'd even figured out their clumsy feelings for each other, Bertholdt would rub his back after football practice. During the exploratory stage of their friendship, the activity suddenly became very awkward and sexually charged. 

'Leg doesn't actually hurt all that much. Guess they have a lot going on down there right now? I'm not complaining.'

Bertholdt nodded, glancing down at the bulky cast. 

'I'll need at least a year of physiotherapy, they said. Really glad the other guy's insurance had to pay for all this because we couldn't afford it.'

This was one of the moments that Bertholdt was very glad they were communicating silently, as he could hear voices beyond the curtain that separated the room. He didn't want the elderly lady Reiner was sharing a room with and her assorted family members hearing about their finances. One of her daughters liked to give them dirty looks whenever she walked by as it was. 

Bertholdt felt the phone bump against his shoulder again. 'I'm just happy you're ok. I can take it.' It tore at his insides with guilt, especially when he looked up to see Reiner's honest smile. 

"Don't say that," he muttered. "You can't say that."

With apparent difficulty, Reiner reached up and put his finger over Bertholdt's lips. He was very hard to fight with, even when he couldn't talk over you. 

...

"So you can't talk, huh?" Annie grunted as she boosted herself up onto the kitchen counter of Reiner and Bertholdt's tiny apartment. She'd met them here when they came home from the hospital, and Bertholdt already wanted her to leave. He was pretty sure he'd already had as much stress as his heart could take for the day. Despite Reiner having no trouble at all navigating with crutches, he'd still been worrying over his partner like a regular mother hen. 

Reiner shook his head at her, in pretty inarguably good spirits about being out of the hospital and finally able to do a few things more or less on his own. He'd certainly mentioned several times that he found the fact he needed a tube shoved up his dick to help him piss more than a little humiliating. He sat down with some difficulty, no doubt due to the combination of fractured ribs and crutches; and Bertholdt was immediately there to push another chair over to prop his leg up. He could feel Annie's judgmental gaze on him as he did so, but he told himself that he didn't care. Was he not supposed to look after his partner? When he sat down himself, the girl was giving Reiner an appraising look. 

"Well that's shit," she said, after a long silence. "How am I supposed to make fun of you now?"

Reiner threw up a hand as if to say, 'I guess I win,' and Annie wrinkled her nose in reply. Normally, her visits would be filled with her and Reiner's increasingly nasty banter; Bertholdt left to sit quietly in the corner to fend off either of their attempts at dragging him into it.

This was very different. This was awkward. 

This was how it was going to be from now on. 

"The doormat here never told me exactly what happened," Annie said pointedly; her arms crossing over her ample chest. 

Bertholdt gave her a tired look, and Reiner, now in possession of his own phone, started typing quickly. 

'Don't make me type all that, Bertl.'

Staring at a point on the chipped kitchen backsplash that was nowhere near Annie, Bertholdt started to talk. He'd done a lot of thinking about that night, but as usual, he'd never spoken a word about it to anyone. 

"Reiner was driving. It was nighttime, and we drove through a green light at a four-way intersection. Someone was running a red coming the other way, and we t-boned him." He waited a few moments before deciding that unfortunately, more was expected out of him. "My airbag went off, his did not. It threw my head against the window and gave me a concussion. I must have tried to cover my face with my arm. Reiner's neck hit the steering wheel. The dashboard crushed down, which broke his leg but only pinned mine." He was not going to go into the way Reiner had looked at him, how his entire side had been soaked in blood, how he couldn't remember if he'd actually called 911 even though he'd been told he had. 

Under the table, Reiner's hand reached for his, gently hooking their fingers together. 

"Congrats on not dying," Annie slid off of the counter with surprising grace. "Gonna make you guys dinner or something."

Reiner immediately grinned and fired off a text. Bertholdt watched Annie take the phone out of her hoodie pocket. She turned around. "Ok, I can make the 'Alfredo casserole thing'. Do you have the shit?"

The scene became shockingly quiet and domestic. Usually Annie and Reiner would encourage each other to be loudmouths. When Bertholdt realized that could not possibly ever happen again, he felt his stomach drop and he found it hard to eat Annie's cooking; despite that it was quite good. It usually was, though anyone who knew her might find that surprising. After they finished dinner and Reiner had taken his pain medication, the girl had excused herself. It was getting dark, and usually in that case one of them would walk her two streets over where the neighborhood got a little better. She hated it, of course. She could handle herself, after all, and they both well knew it. However, they felt better about making her less of a target. Obviously, Reiner would not be able to go, so Bertholdt started putting his shoes on before anyone had mentioned anything about it. 

"Fuck off," Annie said nonchalantly as she toed on her own ratty shoes. Like always, he simply ignored her and held open the door. She marched out, hands in pockets and gloomy as ever, and he followed her. 

They walked in a silence that Bertholdt never felt terribly inclined to break. He rarely felt the need to break any silence, but he and Annie had a special unspoken agreement that they didn't have to talk to each other. He stopped two blocks away, at the intersection of Robinson and Pettigrew, and looked down at the tiny girl, who petulantly craned her neck to look up at him. 

"Thank you for making dinner."

She gave him a curt nod, turning on her heel but not walking away. "Text me if you need help with that oaf." She grunted. She was ten feet away before he could say anything, so he didn't. 

He spent the walk back trying not to worry about Reiner. There was no logical reason for concern - his partner was by no means incapacitated and could keep out of trouble for ten minutes - but Bertholdt had always been a worrier and he wasn't going to stop now. 

Reiner was still hanging around in the kitchen when he came back in. Honestly, if Bertholdt had to guess, it looked like the man was trying to figure out how to helpfully put the plates in the sink when he needed both hands for his crutches. He decided to save Reiner the trouble and gathered them up himself. He knew it annoyed his partner to be waited on hand and foot, but he told himself that he would lay off when Reiner could walk properly. 

A familiar hand rested heavy on his lower back, and he smiled; turning from the sink to find them nose to nose. Reiner's throat was bruised black still, no longer dangerously swollen but startling to look at. Bertholdt usually tried not to - it sent him to very dark places. He'd never been able to imagine life without Reiner, and the accident had only made him realize it all the more. 

Reiner mouthed something, and Bertholdt felt a pang when he realized that it was because he'd forgotten he couldn't talk any more. It was in these moments that he thought about just how much he missed hearing that rough voice. 

Reiner kissed him, and that was when Bertholdt realized that he'd probably been trying to say something like 'stop thinking about whatever is making you look sad'. A kiss would have to work, would more than likely have to work instead of many words now. Reiner did not hesitate to lean more of his weight, which Bertholdt took easily. The trust between them was deep and implicit. Deep enough that they didn't need words, Bertholdt hoped. He knew that nothing could ever change between them, but it didn't mean they wouldn't miss what they lost...

What they had was far more important. Reiner was still alive. That was what mattered. Bertholdt knew without a doubt that Reiner was thinking the same thing about him, despite how minor his injuries were. 

"... You should do your breathing excercises, since you just took more medication," Bertholdt said softly, hands still firm and supportive on Reiner's waist. He couldn't princess carry the other man by any means, but he could take most of his weight and no doubt help him walk without the crutches if the need arose. Reiner rolled his eyes; but he would do it. He knew it was necessary even though it hurt, and was no stranger to pain anyways. As much as he could be a shit disturber, he never gave Bertholdt much trouble. 

It was alien even for Bertholdt to see Reiner vulnerable, and that was something he pondered as they lay in the bed. He held a pillow against the damaged side of Reiner's chest and watched as his partner fought to hide how much pain he was in. It was a strange experience, and he thought it would suit him much better if they were reversed. After all, he never talked anyways. Reiner was so used to speaking for him in public that almost nothing would change. It was a cruel irony that the charismatic, talkative one was the one rendered mute. 

Leaving Bertholdt to speak for two when he couldn't even speak for one. 

The true and incredible horror of the situation closed in on him.

**Author's Note:**

> i had a dream about this i left out the part about the giant squids though
> 
> youre welcome


End file.
